When Dark Lords Go Mad
by Seraph Serpent
Summary: Something I wrote forever ago, but don't dislike enough to delete it. What would happen if Voldemort was actually crazy and the Harry Potter story we know and love was only his delusion?


Voldemort rubbed his hands together in unvillain-like glee. His plan was perfect and there was no way that Potter brat could mess this up. He pulled the blankets up to his chin to ward off the cold of the night, and closed his eyes. If only he could share his brilliance with someone but he knew if he did someone would try to beat him to his unfailable plan.

Voldemort strode through the giant doors leading into the Front hall of Hogwarts. The curved stairs greeted him with the same cheer they had held when he had first entered the school. He paused a moment to remember what it was like to be fresh and innocent.

He shook his head, trying to push away the fluffy feelings of nostalgia, although not entirely succeeding. On to his brilliant plan. He marched evilly up to the nearest student and lowered his hood so his face was fully visible.

"Cower at the power of Lord Voldemort," he hissed in the boys face.

The boy cocked an eyebrow. "Lord Volde-what?"

Lord Voldemort frowned. Was this boy insane? "Voldemort!" He raised his voice, angrily. "Tremble at my evil brilliance!"

The boy shook his head and turned to walk away, laughing to himself. He reached the corner and still seeing the wizard standing there, called back. "I think you've had too much to drink. Go sober up there, mate."

Voldemort was in shock. Not only had he failed to terrify a mere student, he had been laughed at! And even worse, said student hadn't even heard of him. That was too much for the Evil Villain, and he stormed toward the Great Hall, hoping to cause some panic there.

He threw the doors open wide and marched up to the nearest table: Ravenclaw. A pretty Asian girl sat facing him, and nudged her friend, meaningfully as she caught sight of Voldemort. Both girls looked half-way between confused and amused. Voldemort narrowed his red eyes and glared at the girls hoping they would run in terror, or at least faint.

No such luck. The Asian girl was in the middle of a drink and she laughed, spewing her pumpkin juice all over the table. Her friend doubled over in laughter. Voldemort strode over to the table and pointed the wand at the girl who was turning purple, she was laughing so hard.

"Grovel at my feet, filthy brat." The girl gasped for breath before breaking into even more hysterical laughter. However the boy across from the girl didn't find the last threat so amusing.

He stood up and pulled out his wand. "Apologize."

Voldemort froze. This wasn't the way things were supposed to go down. He was supposed to cause mad terror. He was frightening! People were supposed to run and be scared. At the very least nervous. At the very, very lest, uncomfortable.

He thrust his wand toward the Dark Lord and glared. Voldemort almost stepped back. This was a spitting image of the boy he had killed the year before.

"Never!" he exclaimed in the evilest way he could muster in his insulted state. "I am Lord Voldemort!"

The boy's anger turned to amusement. "Sure you are. And I'm Princess Sophia."

Voldemort was frustrated but instead of wasting his evil brilliance on a child who was _supposed_ to be dead he turned and stormed up to the front table and stood opposite Dumbledore.

"Bow to the Dark Lord, Master of all that is Evil!"

Dumbledore smiled, his eyes sparkling in amusement. Without answering the raving wizard in front of him he took a sip of his drink.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."

Voldemort was furious. "Voldemort, Voldemort, Voldemort!" He shrieked at the top of his lungs, jumping up and down, flailing his arms. "I am Lord Voldemort! You are terrified of me!"

The Great Hall was silent for a moment before it erupted in laughter. Voldemort could feel his face growing hot. From anger, not embarrassment, he tried to convince himself.

The Headmaster stood up, raising a hand to quiet the room. "It seems we have a guest here, at Hogwarts. Which table would like to accommodate Mr. Voldemort?"

Several hands shot up in the air, followed by loud giggles. "Very well, Gryffindor. That way Mr. Voldemort." Dumbledore stretched his arm out towards a table and the Dark Lord didn't know anything else to do but to go there.

And that's when he spotted him.

Harry Potter.

His was one of the hands that had shot up so eagerly. Well if the boy wanted to die, then let him. Voldemort went and stood behind the boy.

"At last we meet again."

Harry Potter choked on his drink, and raised a napkin to his lips, covering a smirk.

"Yes, it seems we do."

Voldemort sighed. At least one person remembered him. He raised his wand and pointed it at the boy.

"Tremble before me, filth."

The red head across the table dissolved in a fit of giggles with the girl beside him apparently trying hard not to do the same.

Harry Potter widened his eyes and clutched at his chest. "Please, sir, don't hurt me. Mr. Vodelmrot, er Vodelmort." He stiffened and fell to the floor, rolling around clutching at his throat, and gagging in between snorts of laughter.

Voldemort narrowed his eyes. He hadn't done anything to the boy to make him feel pain, and Potter didn't seem to remember how to say his name right.

"Vol-de-MORT!" He shrieked at the boy rolling on the floor.

Harry Potter sat up. "Sorry, what was that? I was distracted by my dying."

Voldemort sighed. This world is filled with imbeciles. "Vol-de-mort, boy, get it right. You're parents sure did."

Harry Potter struggled to remove the smile from his face. "Well, when I see them at Christmas, I'll be sure to pass on your regards."

The red head fell off his seat and started pounding the floor, laughing so hard he stopped breathing.

Voldemort swore under his breath. Something would have to be done with this child. He pointed his wand at Harry Potter's chest.

"Fall and tremble at my feet," he demanded in his scariest voice possible.

Harry Potter grinned, and ran his hand threw his hair, briefly pushing it off his forehead. "You know what? I don't think I want to." He turned back to his food, paused, then turned around. "If you want to you, you're welcome to tremble at my feet."

That was it for the red head. The bushy-haired girl beside him hauled him to his feet and ushered him out, muttering something about the infirmary.

Voldemort stood transfixed. Where the scar should have been was only smooth skin. That scar was permanent. No one should have been able to remove it.

"I'll tremble at your feet, _Dark Lord_" a drawling voice said from behind him. Voldemort turned and faced a smaller version of his servant, Malfoy. His mouth was curved into a sly smile and his eyes glinted with suppressed humour.

"Yes you will, unworthy servant," Voldemort snarled back, proud to see someone taking him seriously. But instead of the Malfoy child falling and kissing the hem of his robes, he laughed and punched Harry Potter lightly on the shoulder.

"You ready yet, mate?"

Harry Potter mmfed through a mouthful of food and nodded. He stood up and walked out with Malfoy. Voldemort stared after them. How could they not fear his evilness? The rest of the table was now watching him, some of them wiping tears of laughter out of their eyes, others grinning behind napkins.

Voldemort turned on his heal and marched out of the Hall. Severus Snape stood talking to Sirius Black who looked very much alive. Voldemort rubbed his eyes and looked again. Peter Pettigrew ran up to them and stood panting, doubled over, his hands on his knees while he caught his breath.

Voldemort took this chance. His robes sweeping out behind him, he approached the traitors. "Snape, Wormtail," he snarled in his 'I am the Dark Lord' voice. All three men looked at him with amusement.

Black spoke first. "Well mate, join the group. I don't think we have a Vodelmort yet."

Voldemort had had enough. He threw his wand on the floor, started jumping up and down, pulling great chunks of his black, stringy hair out.

"Voldemort, Voldemort, Voldemort! My name is Vol-de-MORT!"

The men gently took hold of his arms and pulled the screaming man away.

Voldemort awoke to find a women dressed in white leaning over him.

"Oh I see you're awake, love," she said as she took his temperature. Voldemort reached for his wand, but she pushed his hand back down.

"You need rest now, love. You can play tomorrow."

Voldemort sighed in resignation. No one knew who he was, or else they didn't care. He allowed the healer to tuck his blanket under his chin and he pulled the fluffy teddy bear closer to him. He knew the stress of being the Dark Lord would eventually catch up to him. He closed his eyes and drifted into a sleep where he really was evil.


End file.
